


The Fight

by elwenyere



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, Getting Together, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Protective Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27986265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elwenyere/pseuds/elwenyere
Summary: Steve gets himself kidnapped, and Tony is not happy about it.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 30
Kudos: 202





	The Fight

**Author's Note:**

> Response to an anonymous Tumblr prompt: "a and b are continuously arguing, and one of them suddenly says BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!"
> 
> Content warning: non-graphic references to torture

“You’re an absolute bastard, Rogers.”

Steve followed the trail of Tony’s voice back toward consciousness, shaking his head to clear the last layers of haze and heaviness as the taupe walls of the hospital room swam into focus.

“How long was I out?” he croaked, squinting at the dark circles under Tony’s eyes.

“Ten goddamn hours, that’s how long,” Tony replied. He poured water into a Dixie cup and set it on Steve’s side table with enough force to rattle the top drawer. “Five hours of surgery to sew up the organs HYDRA pulverized – followed by thirty minutes of chest compressions and defibrillators, which was fun for the whole fucking family – and then four and a half hours for me to sit here and think of new ways to tell you what a hypocritical, pigheaded son of a bitch you are.”

“Do you think we could save this conversation until after I’ve had my hospital pudding?” Steve asked, trying to massage one of his temples and wincing as the movement pulled at the stitches running up his side.

“Oh, now he’s concerned about his well-being,” Tony muttered, ripping the lid off of a pudding cup and stabbing a plastic spoon into the dessert. “Where was that healthy sense of self-preservation when you were offering yourself up to your mortal enemies with a goddamn bow tied around your neck?”

“I did not tie –”

“You injected yourself with a serum suppressant and let them walk you straight into an unmarked van!” Tony hissed.

He had been waving the pudding cup accusingly as he spoke, and Steve reached out to take it, almost succeeding in suppressing another wince at the renewed tug against his side. Tony growled in annoyance, moving Steve’s outstretched arm back against his chest and tucking the pudding cup in his hand.

“They had a live feed of everyone’s location – the whole team,” Steve explained. “They said they had snipers in position. I couldn’t take the chance that they were telling the truth.”

“But it’s fine to take chances with yourself?” Tony demanded. He walked into the bathroom and returned with a wet washcloth, which he held gingerly against Steve’s forehead. “It’s fine to let yourself be used as leverage against us.”

“You know I’m durable, Tony,” Steve said, his eyes falling shut as cold relief rippled out from each place where one of Tony’s fingers made contact with the cloth.

“Did you ever consider that they would use that against me too?” Tony retorted. “They sent me videos, Steve. Every hour, a new video. Do you have any idea –”

Tony broke off, and Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion. He had noticed the cameras, of course, somewhere in between rounds two and three with the sledge hammer. But he had assumed HYDRA was sending the visuals to SHIELD.

“I thought it was Fury’s intel they were after,” Steve said. “Why wouldn’t they send the videos to him? Or to Nat?”

“They didn’t make any demands, Cap,” Tony replied, something pulling taut around the edges of his voice. “They were just trying to wound us. Trying to get the Avengers to do something stupid.”

“But why send them to –”

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!” Tony exploded. He sat back in his chair, and his whole body seemed suddenly to sag, as if someone had pulled a plug connected to his spine. “Jesus, Steve. You can probably remember the position of every piece in the game of chess we started last week, but you can’t see me making moves so goddamn obvious that even HYDRA clocked them.”

Steve felt flecks of pudding spatter onto his arm and realized he had crushed the plastic cup in his fist. He gasped in a deep breath and forced himself to relax his hand, trying to hold himself steady as the edges of room whirled around him.

“What’s wrong?” Tony asked quickly, and in an instant he had one hand pressed against Steve’s forehead and another clasping his wrist. “Do you need the doctor?”

“No,” Steve replied, blinking back a sudden stinging in his eyes. “No, I’m just – I’m sorry, Tony.”

“Don’t be,” Tony responded. “Hey, look, it’s not your fault you don’t feel the same way.”

He started to lean back, but Steve grabbed the hand Tony had circled around his wrist and held it in place.

“Tony,” he said, “That’s not what I mean. I mean I’m sorry I didn’t know sooner. I’m sorry you suffered for it. I’m sorry we wasted so much time.”

Tony stared down at their tangled hands, his face as still as Steve had ever seen it.

“So just to be sure I’m getting this right,” he murmured, “because I haven’t slept in a while, and it’s possible I’ve been the tiniest bit emotionally compromised this week: what you’re telling me is –”

“I love you too,” Steve cut him off.

The swirling of the room had bubbled up into a rush of giddiness, and Steve felt a smile break out across his face. Tony finally looked up at him, and something about Steve’s expression must have set off a similar sensation, because when he reached up to brush Steve’s cheek, his fingers shook.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Tony whispered as Steve finished enveloping Tony’s other hand in his.

“How about adored?” Steve asked, feeling himself flush with the embarrassment and pleasure of saying it. “If you’ll let me.”

A wave of emotions passed over Tony’s face, and before Steve could track them, Tony was leaning forward to kiss him. Steve tilted his head upward with a sigh, seeking out the press of Tony’s lips as Tony held him gently in place with a hand on his shoulder. When Tony pulled back, Steve shivered, feeling a sweet sting linger in the place where Tony’s tongue had swept across the seam of his mouth.

“As long as you want, Steve,” Tony told him. “Just please: try to stay alive long enough to get tired of me. Try not to –”

Tony choked on the words, and Steve squeezed his hand. He knew the end of the sentence before Tony finished it, because his own throat was tight with the memory of a portal stitching itself shut in the sky, the unbearably small speck of red that was a body plummeting to the ground.

“I’ll never get tired of you,” Steve said. “And as someone recently reminded me, I’m a pigheaded son of a bitch. So you know I’ll fight every day to prove I’m right.”

Tony raised their entwined hands so he could brush a kiss against Steve’s knuckles.

“You’re on.”


End file.
